Twiceborn

by Marina Finlayson

  With little room to manoeuvre, my landing was graceless. I stomped toward the glass-walled office space at the end of the building, ready for anything, but no one else was there. Just Luce and I and a pile of fried goblins. The smell made my mouth water.

  So much for Valeria’s big ambush. Clearly she’d put too much faith in her ale.

  Feeling mighty pleased with myself, I took human form again and opened the door, signalling to the wolves. But my pleasure faded when I saw what they’d done to Luce.

  They had her chained in silver, manacled at wrist and ankle. Not only couldn’t she shift, the silver impeded her usual supernatural healing. By the look of her they’d taken full advantage of the situation. The area reeked of blood, and patches of rust red stained the concrete floor. Hideous burns covered her bare arms, as if someone had tried writing on her flesh with a soldering iron. Her face was so bruised and swollen she was unrecognisable as my dainty Chinese wyvern.

  For one awful moment I thought she was dead. Then her eyes cracked open and she fixed me with a true Luce glare.

  “What kept you?” she croaked.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Micah and the guy who’d driven Ben’s car back from the Central Coast marched us upstairs. Our feet made no sound on the plush grey carpet. The wide hallways were still, the panelled doors all closed, as if most of the residents were tucked up in bed, as any normal person would be at this ungodly hour of the morning. My eyes felt gritty from lack of sleep.

  The whole place screamed money, but in an impersonal way. Tasteful paintings hung on tasteful grey walls. Bland. It looked more like something out of a home decorating magazine than an actual home.

  They locked us in separate rooms.

  “Don’t worry,” Ben said over his shoulder as Micah led him away. “I’ll think of something.”

  Right. Don’t worry.

  Locked in, back against the door, I checked out my room. Not bad for a prison. More like a high-class hotel. The queen-sized bed groaned under such a mountain of pillows it looked like it had been styled for a magazine shoot.

  The room was bigger than my combined lounge/dining room at home, and through a door I glimpsed a corner spa in the en suite. Sliding glass doors led on to a small balcony. Locked, of course. Still, if you have to be imprisoned, a soft bed and a private bathroom beats rats and dungeons every time.

  I yawned and rubbed my burning eyeballs. Past five. The sun would be up soon and I’d hardly slept.

  My lips curved in spite of everything. The main reason for my tiredness was somewhere down the hall, and he’d been well worth losing a little sleep. A thrill of warmth shot through me at the memory. Gorgeous Ben.

  Gorgeous, stupid Ben. Don’t worry? Seriously? Who did he think he was fooling?

  I explored both rooms, looking for some kind of weapon. The pepper grinder had taught me not to discount anything, but Nada’s people hadn’t left anything useful. Not even a soap dish in the bathroom. Nothing in the bedside drawers, no table lamps or vases. Nothing. If they stood still long enough I might be able to suffocate someone with one of the three dozen cushions from the bed, but that was it.

  I clenched my fists. Wouldn’t I love to drive them into Micah’s face and feel his nose crunch under the impact, see the blood spray. I’d lay into him, pummelling his face to a pulp, feeling his eyeballs burst, hearing his agonised screams.

  Good God. I drew a shaky breath. I wasn’t usually so bloodthirsty. Stress did funny things to people.

  Disquieted, I tried the balcony door again, as if repetition was the magic key to unlocking it. My room was on the first floor, at the back of the house. No harbour views for me, just a high stone wall and glimpses of the neighbouring houses across the laneway, still slumbering under the streetlights. I sank on to the bed, shoulders slumped. My bandaged one throbbed in time with my heartbeat.

  What were they going to do with me? Nothing good, I supposed. I tried to ignore the frightened knot in my stomach. No use thinking about it.

  At least I needn’t worry about developing Stockholm syndrome with Jason here. I’d rot in hell before I fell in with any cause of his, and as for falling in love! I snorted. Been there, done that. I may be a slow learner but he’d betrayed me twice now, the filthy bastard. Lied to my face even as he poisoned me!

  No, wait. That had been a dream. I scrubbed at my tired face with both hands. This was all so crazy—no wonder my thoughts were all jumbled up. Last time I’d seen Jason he’d been at Lachie’s funeral, sombre in a black suit, dry-eyed and tight-lipped.

  As always my mind shied away from the memories of that day: the mourners gathered around the grave, the smell of freshly turned earth and rose petals assaulting my nostrils. The priest’s voice an incomprehensible drone. My sister’s arm around me, my mother pressed close on the other side. But still I was alone, lost in agony as that small white coffin was lowered into the grave. How could the sky still be blue? Only my sister’s grip had stopped me throwing myself in after it.

  How could he stand there and not even shed a tear?

  I hurled an overstuffed cushion at the locked door. I’d wanted to kill him then, and nothing had changed. And now I discovered he was a dragon? Did that mean Lachie—?

  No, surely it didn’t work like that. I was human; Lachie had been human too. But dragons lived for centuries. Might he have lived longer than a normal human? The irony left a bitter taste in my mouth. Thanks to his long-lived father, he hadn’t even had a decade.

  I lay back against the cushions, exhausted, but too strung up to sleep.

  When I opened my eyes sunlight streamed in through the balcony doors. With a clink of china Micah set a breakfast tray on the bedside table. Guess I’d been able to sleep after all.

  Breakfast was only cereal and juice, but I was starving. I wolfed it down double-time, as if he might change his mind if I wasn’t quick enough. He stood, arms folded, and watched every bite go down.

  “What? You’ve never seen anyone eat before?”

  He didn’t reply. Strong silent type. He had a surly face, like a professional bouncer. The kind who always expects the worst of the clientele. Maybe he was terrified I’d attack him with the plastic spoon they’d so thoughtfully provided. As if I could do any damage even with a metal one. The guy was built, easily twice my weight and a good head taller.

  I had him pegged as a werewolf. He gave off a faint orange glow, which reminded me of my visitor of—yesterday? Was it only yesterday I’d been fighting a werewolf in my kitchen? How time flies when you’re having fun. I rotated my shoulder experimentally. Hardly a twinge.

  He was taller than my werewolf, but I guessed there were no height requirements. Not that I knew much about it, other than—thank God!—that it took more than a scratch to create a new wolf. How many werewolves hid in plain sight among us ordinary folk? Now that I could see the orange glow, would I find them everywhere, like cockroaches scuttling in the dark?

  When I’d finished he took the tray and left me to discover how slowly time can crawl when you have nothing to do but stare at the wall and worry. By the time someone tapped politely on the door I was going crazy and it was only ten o’clock.

  “Come in.” High-class establishment, indeed. I was a prisoner. Who knocked at a prisoner’s door?

  Jason did, apparently.

  “What do you want?” I turned away from his lying face before I could give in to the urge to punch it. His stupid glowing aura did nothing to improve my mood. What was wrong with me? Why could I see these weird colours?

  Because he’s a dragon and you have the sight. Stop whining.

  “Have you eaten?” Jason asked. “Is there anything else you need?”

  I stared stupidly. For a moment I appeared to be having two different conversations at once.

  Only I didn’t know who the other one was with.

  He was taller than I remembered, looming over me as Micah had done. I stood, forcing myself to unclench my fists, and lifted my chin. I would not b
e intimidated by this lying sack of shit.

  “So you’re a dragon. Explains a few things, I guess. So … when you said fidelity wasn’t in your nature, you weren’t kidding.”

  God, why did I say that? As if I cared any more about his stupid affairs.

  “No. I wasn’t. I’m sorry about that.” He sounded genuine, his blue eyes guileless. “I never meant to hurt you, you know. We were just too different.”

  I’d forgotten what a good actor he was.

  “It doesn’t matter now.” An urge to slap that caring look off his face made my palms tingle, and fury tightened my chest. How had I ever thought he was handsome? “You betrayed me. I thought you had my back, and you sold me out.”

  He gave me a quizzical look.

  No, that wasn’t right. I hated him for his carelessness, for thinking he was above the law, that he could drink and drive. I hated him for not cherishing my baby with every fibre of his being. For living when Lachie died.

  “Kate.” He sat on the bed and patted the spot beside him. “I want to help you. You know I’m on your side.”

  His eyes bored into me, so sincere. A wave of dizziness had me swaying where I stood. He held my gaze as I crossed to his side, took my hand as I sank down next to him. His hand felt warm and comforting.

  “You know I’m here for you, don’t you?”

  I nodded. I remembered now how beautiful his eyes were, such a clear sky blue. So many of our fights had ended with me gazing into them and remembering all the reasons I loved him.

  “Tell me about this.” He drew something from his pocket; a stone about the size of a small marble. It was black, with pretty silver lines. I’d seen it somewhere before. I only glanced at it for a moment, then lost myself in his eyes again. So beautiful. “Where did you get it? Did you find it? Did someone give it to you?”

  I opened my mouth to answer but no words came. I wanted to tell him—don’t tell him. Pressure built inside my skull. I’d do anything for him. Backstabbing bastard. Anything he wanted. Kill him.

  A wave of fury surged through me. I leapt to my feet, screaming defiance.

  “Get out of my head, you sonofabitch!”

  He fell back, pure astonishment on his face. I spat words at him like missiles.

  “Why did I trust you again, you worm? You’re pathetic. You were never fit to be my consort!”

  The door crashed back against the wall. Nada stood there, Micah at her shoulder.

  “What’s going on? What are you doing in here with her?”

  Jason rose, still with that stunned expression on his face. Too slow to hide the stone.

  Nada pounced. “What’s that?”

  She snatched it from his hand. Abruptly he came out of his trance, shooting her a venomous look.

  “Give me that.”

  “Why?” She held it tantalisingly out of reach. “What is it? Is it hers?”

  The look she gave me was contemptuous. My fingers crooked into claws. I longed to tear her apart.

  “Give it to me. Now.” Jason spoke through gritted teeth. Obviously he felt as I did about the griffin upstart.

  “Or what? You may not have noticed, but all your pets have gone with Valeria. No one is going to jump to do your bidding. Least of all me.” She stood with her hands on her hips, like an adult telling off a small child, the stone hidden in one fist. A muscle jumped in Jason’s jaw.

  I folded my arms. The enemy of my enemy is my friend? No, but I was prepared to enjoy the show. Let them fight. There would be an opportunity for me in it somewhere.

  “You forget yourself,” said Jason, steel in his voice.

  Nada stepped in, so close her face almost touched his. “I am not the one conspiring with a piece of human trash. I am not the one keeping secrets from my mistress. I think you forget yourself, and your place here.”

  He stared at her with contempt. “My place is at Valeria’s side. You’re a fool if you think that place will ever be yours.”

  Nada’s mouth twisted. “Say what you like, but stay away from this woman till Valeria gets back. We’ll see who the fool is then.” She still thought we were conspiring against her precious mistress somehow. “Micah, I want you outside this door twenty-four seven. No one comes in unless I say so.”

  Lucky Micah. The big man nodded, not complaining at being given babysitting duty.

  Jason laughed. “You’re going to bother Valeria with your petty jealousy now? Excellent plan! She’ll be thrilled at the mess you’ve made.”

  She glared at him with naked hatred. “My jealousy, this stone, your woman—whatever it takes. Anything to bring you down.”

  Jason looked at the stone and shrugged. “It’s a piece of worthless rock. Knock yourself out.”

  He moved to the door and spoke to Micah. “If anyone wants me, I’ll be in the mountains with Valeria. Try to keep Nada on her leash while I’m gone.”

  He walked out. Nada glared at his back, then crossed with quick strides to the glass doors that led out on to the balcony. She stared down at the courtyard. In a few moments I heard a car start and crunch across the gravel.

  “Running to Valeria won’t save him.” She walked out without even glancing my way. “Remember—no one in or out but me.”

  Micah nodded and locked the door behind them. I stalked over to the glass doors myself. How dare they lock me in here like some piece of baggage to be collected at their leisure?

  Fists clenched, I looked out on the sunlit courtyard and planned a thousand painful deaths for Jason and the mad griffin bitch.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  By mid-afternoon my inventiveness had run out and my temper had climbed back down out of the stratosphere. Oh, I was still mad—at these freaks for holding me against my will, at Ben for getting me mixed up in this in the first place, at Jason for … well, for being Jason.

  No one had come or gone since he’d stomped off in a tantrum. Typical Jason move—it brought back a lot of memories.

  Knowing he was a dragon made sense of a lot of things. No wonder I’d always found it so hard to stay mad at him, whatever he did, however many other women he slept with, always promising this was the last time. My sister had accused me of being a doormat. I’d thought so myself.

  Turns out I wasn’t so spineless—just charmed into forgiving him. My skin crawled at the memory of him forcing his will on me. It had felt like a fog invading my mind. Such a sickening feeling of helplessness, like being a prisoner in my own body. He’d been so sure he could still get me to do or say anything he liked, just like the old days. But I’d fought back, and hadn’t that shocked him!

  Better get used to it, arsehole.

  And this was the man I’d chosen to father my child. Good job, Kate.

  If Lachie had been half-dragon, what did that mean? It was hard to imagine my scrawny little munchkin as something quite so imposing. Scales instead of curls, claws instead of grubby little-boy fingernails. Not that it mattered any more. Jason had seen to that.

  Time to stop dancing to his tune, or that of his so-charming griffin associate. That was a strange relationship. Where did the power lie? Nada had made no secret of her hatred of him, but empty threats seemed the best she could manage without the absent Valeria’s say-so.

  Now there was someone I didn’t want to meet. Best to be long gone before she arrived.

  The balcony door was out. Shame I didn’t have a bobby pin—I might have used it as a lock pick. Not that I had the faintest clue how to pick a lock, but I itched for action and mere details weren’t going to stop me.

  Kicking my way through the glass, while it might make me feel better, was bound to attract attention. The way I felt right now, that didn’t seem such a bad thing. Restless energy fizzed inside my skin, desperate for release. My shoulder itched like the devil, but it wasn’t sore any more. My headaches and sickness had melted away too, leaving me ready to take on the world, or at least a werewolf or two. Only the tiny voice of reason reminding me what had happened in my last encounter with a
werewolf led me to the en suite, where the window wasn’t locked.

  It wasn’t big, either, but big enough for someone my size, though it might take some acrobatics. I stood on the bath and fiddled with the flyscreen. Somehow I managed to get it off without dropping it outside. Then I hoisted myself up and got my head and shoulders out the window.

  Immediately I saw the problem: a sheer drop onto sandstone flagging. Even if I could wriggle myself around and get out the window feet first, it was too high. I’d be lucky if I only broke my legs.

  A white-hot knot of rage tightened inside me. The blue vault of the sky beckoned, tantalisingly close. I wanted to spread my wings and leap out into that vast blue emptiness, free of this prison. Free of this lump of useless flesh.

  How dare they keep me here against my will? Who did they think they were?

  I brought my gaze down from the clouds to the gravelled driveway below, the garage and the high sandstone wall around the property. On the street behind, a small Asian woman walked her fluffy white dog past the back gates, enjoying the sunshine. I ground my teeth. Even the stupid mutt on its leash had more freedom than I.

  Something about the woman penetrated my ferocious sulk: the way she carried herself, or something in the tilt of her head. I knew her.

  I leaned forward, the window sill cutting into my ribs, toes grazing the edge of the bath. She glanced up, apparently casually, and our eyes met through the wrought iron gate. Then she was gone, hidden behind the wall again.

  I eased myself down from the window and picked up the flyscreen. Micah’s deep voice growled something in the corridor outside my room, and I froze, but he didn’t come in. My hands clenched on the screen. Just let him, and he’d be wearing this as a necklace. A terrible longing to smash his head like a watermelon filled me. I could do it so easily. Filthy dog.